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I walked across the cliff-tops, past the bluebells, aquilegia, wild garlic, campion, gorse, red beetles, yellow nettles, ferns, streams, and rabbits, and peered down at the ocean below. (I also got burnt by the sun, covered in mud, and got fed up of the flies.)
The East Hill Lift (funicular railway) took me down into Hastings itself, and then I visited the Shipwreck Museum, which had details of the Amsterdam shipwreck in Bulverhythe and others.
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I climbed a tree amongst the cow parsley and dandelions, while the butterflies fluttered past. This was in the meadow between the railway line and the busy main road, now verdant and thick with grasses. Everything had grown so much since I was last there. It was six o'clock in Fairyland according to the dandelion clock.
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When I arrived in Hastings on Friday, I headed to the beach and sat on the pebbles, staring out to sea and at the remains of the pier. Even the sign that had once said "You can save me!" had disintegrated. Today though, I saw a headline about the new pier, so perhaps in a few years, I will be back there, staring at that.
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"Means of escape", was written on the window of the lodge where I was staying, and I smiled every time I read it, as it reminded me that I was on holiday, and this window, this lodge, was helping me to escape. |
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